


As He Breaks

by theappleppielifestyle



Series: Bending Backwards [1]
Category: The Avengers
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Torture, crossover-ish, sort of dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>You’ll be fine, they said. Going to Afghanistan doesn’t automatically equal kidnap, they said. Fuck. Fucking fuckedy shit fucking fuck.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	As He Breaks

Tony doesn’t know whether to scream or laugh at the irony.

_You’ll be fine, they said. Going to Afghanistan doesn’t automatically equal kidnap, they said. Fuck. Fucking fuckedy shit fucking fuck._

He strains his wrists against the ropes that some mothefucker tied too tightly, muttering swear words and slowly losing circulation.

He’s scared shitless, but he tamps it down, trying not to think of blood on Yinsen’s face or breathing water or the heavy weight in his chest that’s still there and won’t let him forget. 

He inhales shakily.

Good things.

Good things like how Pepper rolls her eyes at him. Movie nights with everyone laughing and arguing over which actor is the most attractive. In the iron man suit, flying through clouds. How coffee feels in his hand. How Steve feels on top of him. Waking up and Steve’s there. Falling asleep and Steve’s there.

The van jerks to a sudden stop and Tony slides forwards slightly.

He hears footsteps- lots of them, and they’re heavy- and the doors are yanked open.

There are half a dozen burly men around the van doors, but the one in the middle is the one that attracts Tony’s attention. 

The man smiles- leers- at him. 

“Hello, sunshine.”

He has a slow, rasping voice, like he drags words through his teeth before saying them. It’s almost metallic.

Something glints and Tony realises that the man is rolling a knife between his fingers.

Again, the man’s lips curl upwards. 

“Let’s get started then, shall we?”  
-

“What do you mean, ‘you _don’t know’?”_

“Steve, calm down.”

Steve glances at Pepper, and then back at the guy he’s holding up against a wall.

“It does’t necessarily mean that he’s been kidnapped,” the guy splutters. “It just means we’ve- uh, lost him.”

“Lost him,” Steve repeats, ice running down his spine. “Then _find_ him.”

He turns around, breathing hard, and tries not to think of Tony, lying in the corner and not moving.

-

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Alastair,” the thin man says, rolling up his sleeves. Then, to the others, “Be careful as you tie him up, will you? Wouldn’t want to damage all that…” he skims Tony’s cheek with the knife. “pretty flesh.”

They shove Tony in the chair and re-tie him, a rope around both wrists, both legs and his neck.

Tony actually feels _more_ nervous when the others leave the room.

But he’s Tony Stark, so: “Don’t suppose there’s a ransom, huh? Because I have shitloads of money. Too much, really, and I wasn’t planning on using it on ransom demands, but-“

“Oh, Tony,” Alastair croons- _croons,_ and it’s way more fucking terrifying than it should be- “We want the usual. Rather, the people I’m working for want the usual: designs for the iron man suit and all. Me, well-” his smile is slow. Everything about him is slow, lingering. How he speaks, moves his hand, licks his lips, twists the knife.

“I wanted to know what you looked like with blood in your teeth.”

Tony tries for a glib smile, but it falls flat. He starts to say something, but Alastair interrupts, walking closer.

“I volunteered, you know. Everyone knows Tony Stark. I just wanted to know you a little more..” he leans forward, teeth bared and skimming Tony’s jaw. “Intimately.” 

“God, you’re all about the suspense,” Tony chokes, trying to keep his voice steady. “What are you going to do, kill me via talking?”

Alastair pulls back so they’re eye to eye. “You’re very coherent,” he purrs. “Let’s see if we can do something about that.”

-

The first day, Tony’s throat is raw from screaming. He’s dizzy- ‘exhaustion and blood loss is my default mode,’ he had joked once.

The second day, he’s shaking. If one thing can be said about Alastair, it’s that he thoroughly enjoys his work. He grins at Tony and drags the knife across Tony’s knuckles.

“Fuck you,” Tony manages.

Alastair’s laugh is like barbed wire. “Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” He laughs again and one hand moves up Tony’s leg.

Tony shoves himself as far back into the chair as he can go. “Don’t.”

“Pretty please,” Alastair says in a sing-song voice, one hand on Tony’s thigh and the other holding the knife that is trailing up his knee.

Tony presses his lips together so hard they turn white. “Pretty please.”

-

On the third day, he begs. Alastair takes slow drags on cigarettes and presses the end into Tony’s neck, fingers, the crook of his knee, the inside of his elbow. The room smells of cooked meat.

On the fourth day, he’s sagging in his chair and Alastair has to tie the ropes tighter. The rope on his neck is frayed.

-

Alastair hums as he works. Tony’s not sure how long it’s been.

 _“I went to a fancy ball,”_ Alastair sings softly. _“It was slippery in the hall. I was afeared that I may fall, because I nay had on trousers.”_

He hums again, low and long. 

Tony watches through swollen eyelids as Alastair bends down and pushes a cigarette into a cut on Tony’s ankle.

Tony jerks, but he swallows his scream.

“So gorgeous,” Alastair says, running his tongue along Tony’s wrist.

-

“We could always just cut it out,” Alastair says, the blade of his knife cold on Tony’s chest.

At this point, Tony doesn’t bother speaking. He just glares.

Alastair breaks into a grin. “Such a good boy,” he says, and circles his knife around the arc reactor. “How much longer do you think you’ll last? You’ve done very well so far. Really, I’m impressed. I thought you’d cave in the first few days. I am so glad you didn’t, though. I’ve enjoyed our time together.”

He turns and starts to sing again, slow and taunting. 

“Ain’t got no place to lay your head… somebody came and took your bed… don’t worry, be happy…”

Tony closes his eyes.

At this point, he’s run out of good things to think about.

-

Eight days- eight days, it’s been eight days, the guy had said it had been eight days so it had been eight days, Tony’s been here for eight days so it’s been eight days and-

Tony feels very far away. In some place, he can hear someone yelling that isn’t him. Guns are going off.

“Oh, god, _Tony,”_ someone says in a broken voice.

Tony lifts his head. He tries to make his lips form the word ‘Steve,’ but he can’t do it.

“Don’t say anything, just try to breathe, you’re fine,” Steve says shakily, and there’s a knife- Tony cringes away, but the knife cuts through the ropes.

He falls forwards, crying out when Steve catches him and it presses on his wounds. Steve keeps talking: “you’re fine, Tony, I’ve got you, don’t close your eyes, you’re fine, we’re going to get you out of here-“

“Steve,” Tony manages, and then everything goes dark.

-

Tony opens his eyes groggily, and he’s staring at the ceiling of his room.

It takes a while for his brain to catch up, and he winces when it does- Alastair singing nursery rhymes, blood in his mouth, screaming-

He turns his head, and Steve is staring at him with a concerned expression.

“Hey,” Tony says.

Steve sucks in a ragged breath. “Hey, Tony.”


End file.
